


Making Of

by brooklinegirl



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 21:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklinegirl/pseuds/brooklinegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For no_tags 2011 prompt: <i>MCR gen, 'na na na' and/or 'sing' video shoot shenanigans (bonus points for the inclusion of: grant morrison! jimmy and steve! the SHORTEST SHORTS! gway being ~directorily!)</i><br/>ACTUAL Summary (because I sort of veered off the prompt): Frank and Gerard on the set of the trailer to "Na Na Na." Frank is all over the place, wanting to be home with his girls and here with his boys, all at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Of

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Huge thanks to romanticalgirl for working with me to get this idea in place - I don't think this fic would have happened without you! Thank you to shiningartifact for supporting the idea and talking it through with me! Thank you to mrsronweasley for, oh, listening to me fret about this for a WEEK, and for a truly excellent beta job. And last but certainly not least, thank you to airgiodslv for running this spectacular challenge!

Frank is all over the place. He loves being here, it's the greatest, and he's peripherally aware of how fucking amazing it is to see Gerard's vision coming to life here in the California desert. He wants to be more aware. He really does. But he can't stop checking his phone, and when there's no message, he goes back and forth in his brain for a while (people might even be talking to him while he does so, but he's not sure) and then he calls home, just to make sure that's Jamia's not calling because something terrible happened.

Nothing terrible has happened. He knows that. He _does_. That's how half of his internal conversations go: It's fine. It's _fine_. It's fine.

Then he hits redial.

He's sweating his ass off on the desert and his holster is digging into him as he holds the phone up to one ear and his hand over the other to block out any sound, so he can listen, so he can hear, so he doesn't miss anything on either coast, and fuck, oh fuck, this is just exactly what tour is going to be like, isn't it?

"It's fine," Jamia says, tinnily in his ear. "We're all fine here. _You're_ fine."

"I know." Frank leans his head on his wrist against the wall of the diner. His hands still smell like paint, from working on the mailbox, painting his daughters' (his _daughters_ ) names on it carefully. He thought maybe the guys would tease him, but Gerard just beamed at him, and got down on his knees to find a spot to write his own daughter's name in careful capital letters, all black, along the bottom. "I know. I just think that I'm missing everything."

Jamia's quiet for a second. "You don't want to be missing what you're doing there, though. Right?"

"Right." Frank breathes in through his nose, tilts his head so he can see out the front window. Gerard is crouched down by one of the bikes they'd rolled out earlier in the morning, focused intently on talking to one of the techs. His bright red hair - Frank thought it would take him longer to get used to it than it has, but now it just seems natural, it just seems like Gerard - catches the sunlight and his face is already tanner than it was. "You're right. I want to be here. I mean. This is - it's -"

"Frank," Jamia says, soft, "It's your band. Of course you want to be there. Me and the girls are all set. Your mom's been here every day. My mom, too. Everyone misses you, but we'll all be here when you get back."

Frank nods his head against the wall. She's right. Of course she's right. Outside, Gerard has some decal in his hand, slowly and carefully applying it to the bike, his long, weird fingers pressing it into place. "Just. Yeah. Keep me updated, okay? Keep sending me pictures. I love those pictures. The guys do, too."

"You're making them crazy, showing them the same pictures over and over, aren't you?"

"They ask me to!" Frank says indignantly. "They love it!"

"They do," Jamia says, full of amusement. "And they love you. I love you, too. So do these two little ladies drooling all over themselves right now. Oh, crap." There's a thin, reedy wail through the phone. "Spoke too fucking soon."

"Go," Frank says. "Kiss them for me. I love you, babe."

"Love you, too. Lemme run. Fuck, don't spit - ugh. Ugh."

The phone clicks off in his ear and Frank hangs up on his end, staring down at it for a second.

"How are the girls doing?"

Frank jumps a little. It's Ray, who grins and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Chill," he says. "I'm just checking in."

"Yeah," Frank grins. "I know, it's okay. They're fine. Jamia's fine. I'm a mess." He shrugs one shoulder, trying to get the holster to settle better into place.

Ray reaches out, untwists the back of the holster for him. "It'll get better," he says. "It's your first time away."

"I know." Frank goes to scrub one hand through his hair, but stops - Tricia will kill him if he fucks it up. "I know. And this is great, this is fine - how awesome are these costumes, huh? Seriously."

" _Seriously_ ," Ray says, running one hand down his jacket. Ray really did end up with the most awesome jacket of them all. He looks so cool in it, way cooler than the actual nerd he is in real life. "I thought, I don't know." He shrugs, blinking his eyes in that way he does when he's thinking. "I thought they might end up looking silly, but -"

"But it's just kind of cool, right?" Frank finishes. "Like it's really us, you know, like Gee said, only ten years down the line. It's just enough."

"Exactly." Ray is scanning the set, looking happy, looking ready.

This is what Frank has been waiting for. This is what Frank has been looking for. Through the lens of his camera, maybe - it sounds pretentious and it probably is, but he's spent months stalking his own band and he knows what it is he hasn't been seeing, and it's whatever it is they are all feeling here, somewhere in the middle of a California desert.

Across the way, Gerard has pushed himself to his feet and is drumming his fingers on his thighs to a tune only he hears in his head, looking onward and upward. He's the only one not in costume yet. Julie, who is _actually_ in charge of the set, has been chasing him for half an hour now, but he's been putting finishing touches on, oh, everything, and he couldn't seem to stop. She shoos him towards the trailer now and he goes willingly enough.

It's early yet - they started before sun-up, and no one got enough sleep last night. Frank's still on Jersey-time. They have a whole day of filming ahead of them, and Frank's already so full of nerves that he feels like he could vibrate out of his own skin.

"Frankie?" Ray's looking at him, concerned, and Frank shakes his head, comes back to himself.

"I'm cool, it's good. It's just motherfucking _hot_."

Ray nods, looking down at his thick black leather jacket. "Yep. You gotta trust Gerard to not take that into consideration."

"Leather above all," Frank says, and Ray laughs his high-pitched laugh. They lean there for a while, killing the little free time they have, 'til Ray sees the sweat literally dripping down Frank's face.

"Go," he says, steering Frank by the shoulders. "Make-up is air-conditioned. Gotta transition your delicate Jersey self."

Frank stares at Ray over his shoulder. "That may be the first time the words 'delicate' and "Jersey' have ever been used in the same breath."

Ray shrugs. "What can I say, I'm a poet."

Frank giggles, too loud, as Ray gives him a push towards the make-up trailer.

Frank pushes the door open, and the rush of cool air make his lungs ache. It's probably not even that cool, but the comparison to the dry heat outside is glorious.

Gerard's in front of the mirror in full costume, and Tricia is fucking around with his hair. "It's _fried_ ," she says. "Did you dye it twice in one week?"  

"Yeah?" Gerard says sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Fuck," Tricia mutters to herself, digging through her make-up bag. "Your brother stole my hairspray," she says, pointing accusingly at Gerard. "Don't fucking move."

She heads out, the door slamming shut loud behind her. Gerard is looking at himself in the mirror - the sleeves of his bright-blue leather jacket pushed up just so, his hair falling in his eyes in the way Frank knows he loves - when his eyes catch Frank's. He lifts his eyebrows, turns around, pushes Frank back behind the rack of costumes in a flurry of brightly-colored fabric. He's got one hand curled around Frank's holster, the other on the back of his neck, fingers tucked into his hair. He pauses for half a second with his face real close to Frank's, and then he's kissing him, hot and intense, his lips soft, his breath coming fast. Frank thinks he can feel his heart beating through the leather of his jacket.

Gerard pulls back, but he doesn't let go. "Frankie," he says, his voice soft and delighted, in a way that Frank's never heard anyone say anything except for Gerard. "Frankie, how great is this?"

"So great," Frank breathes, staring up at him. He's on his toes, he realizes suddenly, pressed against the wall, his head still angled for Gerard's kiss. His phone buzzes, insistent, in his pocket, trapped between the two of them. Gerard kisses him again, quick and soft this time, stepping back as Frank falls back to the flat of his boots with a thump. He fishes the phone out of his pocket, and he's got a picture text loading.

"Ooh, it's Jamia," Gerard says, looking at Frank's phone over his shoulder, like it would never occur to him Frank would get a text he wouldn't want to share. "Oh my god, Frankie, your _girls_."

Because it is - his girls, his babies. Lily is wailing, pissed off, her face bright red, and Cherry is looking petulant and put-out, her hands in fists up by her face. It's hysterical, both of them so angry, and the note on the picture message is, "The girls say What Up, Daddy."

Frank feels his face melting into that gooey, terrible, awful, unstoppable dad-face, and when he glances up, his cheeks hot, Gerard is looking at the phone with nearly the same expression. "Oh man," he says. "Look at those faces. They will _cut_ you. They will _fuck you up_."

Frank beams up at him - he can feel the stupid grin spread across his face and he can't do anything to stop it. "I know, right? These are Jersey kids, born and bred." For a handful of seconds, he wants to be home so bad he can't _breathe_.

Gerard pulls him around again, tugging him forward with his fingers tucked under his holster like he had before. Gerard _really_ likes those holsters. "Our kids are going to grow up to be so kick-ass," he says, and kisses Frank again, letting him go only when the door bangs open as Tricia comes back in. Gerard's over by the mirror admiring himself again by the time she gets up the stairs, and then she yells at Frank for messing up his hair even though it really so totally wasn't his fault.

***

Frank texts Jamia back after Tricia fixes his hair. _Good luck w the jersey girls. Gee says they will cut u._

His phone buzzes thirty second later. _Gee is so totally right._.

 _miss you. miss the babies._ he can't help texting back, and then he tucks his phone away, determined to focus on _here_.

Once they start filming, it goes quicker than you would think. He films the scene of him pushing off the Dracs a half dozen times, and his knees hurt from kneeling by the end, but the shot comes out great, so fucking good, and Gerard is beaming as he watches the playback.

Gerard in full costume - oh man, it's like nothing else. He's all color - the red of his hair, the bright blue of the jacket, even the snug grey of his jeans is lighter than anything Frank's ever seen him in. He's hot and he's _on_ and he's focused, and Frank's drawn to it like a moth to a fucking flame.

Frank does the final scene over and over again, but it doesn't work, he can't get it. The PA calls break, finally, and Frank backs away, quick, thumbing open his phone without even meaning to, just to check, just to see. He keeps walking away, around a couple of buildings, where he can lean back against too-hot siding, and light a cigarette. He can't even smoke it, really, his stomach already churning from throwing away half-smoked cigarette after cigarette as he blew the take, again and again.

"Ugh." He hits his head back, a little, against the wall, trying to bang his thoughts back into place somehow.

"Don't do that." Gerard, of course, with a cigarette of his own tucked into the corner of his mouth, gazing down at his own phone as he comes towards Frank. He glances over his shoulder, tossing his hair out of his face, and fuck, how does Gerard do that, make himself out like a goddamn movie star, larger than life?

"I can't get it," Frank says, and he sounds whiny to his own ears, even. This is simple. This isn't even acting. It's two and a half seconds on camera.

Gerard wedges his phone into his tight jacket pocket. The blue leather makes his eyes brighter, and oh yeah, his face is more tan already, after a few hours in the sun. "It's not anything hard," he says to Frank, moving closer. He leans up next to Frank, not even looking at him, just leaning his head back against the building and closing his eyes. "It's the end, but it never ends. You're exhausted, you're done, you're worn the fuck out." Gerard peeks at Frank from the corner of his eye, exhaling smoke. They both know how that feels.

Frank looks at Gerard for a minute. "I have two and a half seconds to show all that?"

Gerard's eyes are still closed. "All you can do is keep moving," he says, and it's his story-telling voice. "You can't even pause to grieve, there isn't time."

"What am I grieving?" Frank asks, desperately. "I don't even have the whole story."

Gerard shakes his head, opening his eyes and pushing off the wall. "That doesn't matter." He's almost to the filter of his cigarette, the smoke curling up over his face in the still desert air. "That isn't the point. You'll never have the whole story."

Frank stares at Gerard, who is looking at him like he's waiting for the penny to drop. Frank doesn't think the penny is going to drop. He doesn't even know where the penny _is_. "Gerard, I just." He shakes his head, reaching for his phone, but Gerard's hand wraps around his wrist, stilling him.

"Listen," Gerard says, leaning close.

"I am. I _am_." Frank is so fucking frustrated. What the fuck is he even doing? His girls are three thousand miles away and he's in costume in the desert and he can't even think, he can't even focus, this is his _band_ -

"Listen," Gerard says, just the same as before, only his lips are pressed against Frank's neck and Frank's breath catches in his throat. Everything in his whole body tenses up even more. Gerard is moving, his lips sliding along Frank's neck, until he's right in front of him, really fucking close. Frank feels unfocused, pulled in a thousand different directions, but Gerard is moving really slowly, not rushing anything, like they've got all the time in the world and not a handful of hours left to get this right. For _Frank_ to get this right.

Gerard's just moving his lips along Frank's neck, ducking his head down until he's at this spot at the bottom of Frank's throat. Gerard's lips right there make his knees shake. Something about how Gerard has him pinned there with just his mouth working softly over his skin - he's not even touching Frank anywhere else, just barely brushing up against him - has Frank's breath coming too fast and too hard. He'd be struggling if Gerard tried to hold him down - this would turn into a scuffle, instead of what it is. Which is Gerard, still working at the skin of Frank's throat, and now Frank's breath is coming in little hitching whines. He's got his feet planted hard on the ground, legs spread, and Gerard is just so - it's so weird, he's smaller than he's ever been, thin and compact, tight jeans, snug jacket, the creak of leather as he shifts minutely closer, the smell of sweat and dust and hair-dye all around them both.

"Gee." Frank's voice comes out wrenched, wrecked. "I need -" Gerard digs in with his teeth a little and Frank gasps, loud. "Fuck, I need - I need -" He sounds frantic, even to his own ears, and Gerard bites down harder, then pulls back to lick at where his teeth had been, just presses closer, so that his hard cock in his tight jeans is pushed up against Frank.

That's it, that's all, just that. "Fuck. That. Yeah. Gerard. I need it, I -"  

Gerard pushes himself back, and the spot where his mouth had been feels cold, even though the air around them is so fucking hot.

"No," Gerard says, thoughtfully, pushing his hair out of his face with both hands. "I don't think that's what you need."  

Frank stares at him, trying to figure it out, but Gerard just drops to his knees in front of Frank. His lips are red and wet and he leans in to press his mouth against the front of Frank's jeans, where Frank is so fucking hard that all he can do is groan and press his whole body back against the building, his fingers scrambling for purchase against the wall.

"Yeah," Gerard says, like he's the one who's been needing this. He's opening Frank's jeans with quick, steady fingers and tugging them down just enough so he can get at his cock. He does that thing where he wraps his hand around Frank just to guide him, taking him into his mouth and then letting go so he can go down, all the fucking way down, so deep, Jesus Christ, right on the first shot.

"Fuck," Frank hisses, his hips shoving forward hard, because he can't stop them, but Gerard just wraps his hot hands around Frank's hips and takes it. "Jesus, Gerard, fucking God, yeah, just -" Frank can't stop, doesn't want to stop, he feels high, his whole body is lit up and every single part of him is focused on how hot and deep Gerard is taking him. Gerard's letting Frank fuck his mouth, he's pulling himself forward on his knees in the dust so he can go deeper, tugging hard at Frank's hips and making these filthy, desperate noises in his throat.

Frank is biting back sounds in his throat, trying not to scream, it feels so fucking good. He has his hands in Gerard's hair and his dick in Gerard's throat and he needs to come so _bad_. "Fuck, Gee." Frank tangles his fingers into Gerard's hair harder, holding him there. Gerard's eyes are shut, his eyelashes dark against the slight tan of his cheeks, and his lips are so wet. "I'm gonna - fuck, your mouth, Gee, your fucking mouth." 

Gerard moans and digs his fingers into Frank's hips. _Keep talking_. "You know you're so fucking good at this, you know it, you fucker." Frank's babbling now, couldn't stop if he tried. "Your mouth is so fucking - ah! - hot and, fuck, you love this, you _love_ it, that you can take me all in like that, suck me so hard, get me off with your - _fuck_ \- tongue and - fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come so hard in your fucking - goddamn - _mouth_ -"

Frank thrusts forward one last time and Gerard groans around him and Frank comes, hanging onto Gerard's hair, letting him pull back if he needs to, but Gerard just stays where he is, taking it all.

"Jesus." Frank can barely talk. He can't move. He can't feel his _fingers_. "Jesus Christ." He works on untangling his fingers from Gerard's hair, and Gerard sits back on his heels in front of him, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "Gerard -" Frank can't even form a coherent thought.

Gerard drops his hands to his thighs and grins up at Frank, quick and bright and fucking _delighted_. "Good?" he asks, and oh man, his voice sounds rough, wrecked, like he's been doing just exactly what it is he has been doing - sucking cock like a fucking pro.

"Oh fucking hell," Frank says, heartfelt, and Gerard bites his lip and grins harder, like he knows it for the compliment it very much fucking is. Frank pulls himself together, tucking his dick back in and adjusting his jeans as Gerard watches. Then he reaches down and Gerard grabs Frank's hand, lets him tug him, wincing, to his feet. Frank kisses Gerard because he has to, he fucking needs to, and Gerard sighs and settles up against him, his cock fucking hard up against Frank's hip. Frank runs his hand down between them to the front of Gerard's jeans, more than ready to return the favor, but Gerard kisses him again and pulls back.

"No, I'm good." He runs his hands through his hair where Frank thought he'd wrecked it, but - it looks pretty much the same as it did when Gerard left hair and make-up, just a little more crazed, like it's been blown hard by the desert wind.

Frank raises an eyebrow. Gerard is completely fucking hard in his snug jeans, the outline of his cock probably obvious from the International Space Station. "Really," Frank says.

 Gerard grins and shrugs. His knees are covered in dust, and his mouth is a little swollen from the cock-sucking. He looks like fucking pornography. "I like it," he says, and his voice is still rough. "It works."

He shrugs again and then, Frank gets it. There's the fucking penny. "It's in character," Frank says, and Gerard beams at him, pleased that he got it, too.

He crowds Frank up against the wall, kissing him soft and sweet for a handful of seconds. "I'm so glad you're here," he says, pulling back to look Frank in the eye. He's still hard against Frank's thigh. "I know how hard it must have been to pull yourself away, but - I'm really glad you're here."

  "Me too," Frank says. "Jamia's glad, too, actually - she says one less kid to look after."  

Gerard laughs his dorky, high-pitched giggle. "Lindsey says the same thing to me." He pushes back a little, watching as Frank digs his smokes out of his pocket. Frank lights one, looks up to see Gerard's pleading eyes, and hands it over.

Gerard takes a long, happy drag as Frank lights up a second one for himself. "When's she coming out?"

  "J?" Frank asks. Just talking about her makes him want to reach for his phone to call her, but it doesn't feel as frantic as it had earlier. He takes a long drag. "Soon. Ish. After the overseas dates, probably. I'll fly home first, so she doesn't have to travel with the girls alone, and we'll both come out."  

"You can stay with us," Gerard says, his eyes on Frank. "Lindsey is dying to get her hands on those girls."

  Frank grins. "Just on the babies?"

Gerard grins back in this way that's kind of jolting - it's one hundred percent dorky Gerard from ten years ago, fresh out of the basement, hunched shoulders and unsure smile, like he's still completely perplexed by the way his life has taken him to his hot wife and beautiful kid and fantastic house in LA, all of it. "Maybe not just the babies. She misses this, too."

He looks like he might lean in to kiss Frank again, but then he glances up at where the sun is sliding slowly but surely down the horizon, and frowns. "We're losing light."

Frank nods and takes another drag before dropping the cigarette and carefully crushing it out, picking it up and pocketing the butt. No taking chances with fire in the tinder that's California. "I'm ready," he says, shoving himself off the wall and fixing his holster. Again.

"You've got this," Gerard says, sure of it.

  "I do." Frank does. He's got this. He can do it.

***

It's the final shot of the day. They're all sweaty and exhausted, but sort of giddy with it. Mikey's been doing random karate moves at Ray and Frank for about ten minutes now, to the point that they barely even notice anymore, but it doesn't stop him trying to get a random kick in. The final shot is taking a few tries - mostly because Gerard watches the playback of each one and frowns, then demands another.

Frank's phone buzzes in his pocket and he wards off another one of Mikey's weak karate chops - seriously, did he ever even watch _The Karate Kid_? - and fishes it out of his pocket.

"How's it going?" Jamia asks.

"Well," Frank says. "Grant has Gerard's head in his hands and I'm about ninety percent sure Gerard has an erection."  

"Only ninety percent?"

"Gerard's a perfectionist," Frank points out. "He was _definitely_ hard about three takes ago."

"Was that before or after he sucked you off?"  

"After," Frank says. Ah. Okay. That makes sense. "Thank you, by the way."  

"What?" Jamia's all innocent voice, but Frank's known her for a really long time.

"For talking to him." Frank watches as Grant and Gerard take their positions again, Gerard all but making cartoon heart-eyes at Grant while Mikey gnaws on a thumbnail, watching from the sidelines, clearly envious.

"Oh," Jamia says, her voice low and hot. "That."

"Mm-hmm." Frank matches her tone, teasing.

"So?" Jamia says. "How'd it go?" 

"The take?" Frank asks, watching Gerard. "I nailed it. Finally." Gerard's half watching the set, making sure everything is as it should be, and half stealing glances at Grant, as they chat while waiting for the lighting guys to get set up again.

"The _blowjob_ ," Jamia clarifies. "I was asking about the blowjob."

"Oh." Frank says. "That."

"Yeah," Jamia says. " _That_."

"It was awesome. And you're my favorite person."

Jamia hums happily in his ear.

"They're about to do another take," Frank tells her as Gerard meets Frank's eye across the set, all _Oh my god, it's GRANT MORRISON_. Frank grins wide. Someone yells, "Take four!" and Gerard's knees sag as Grant takes his head in his hands again and stares into his eyes.

"It's like watching nerd porn," Frank says to Jamia.

"You love it." Jamia's giggling in his ear, and he hears one of the girls - he's pretty sure it's Cherry - half-whimpering, half-babbling in the background.

"I love _you_ ," Frank says, and Jamia makes sappy smooching noises into the phone.

The scene's done and Gerard's talking to the AD about what comes next, still on his knees in front of Grant. Frank shakes his head, grinning, and says, "Send me a picture of the girls. I'm missing their whole childhood."  

"Send me a picture of Gerard," said Jamia. "Sounds like I'm missing _his_."  

"Or at least his teenage years," Frank said, studying Gerard, _still_ on his knees. "Okay. I gotta go drag Gee away from Grant Morrison before he asks him out on a date. I love you."

  "I know," Jamia says. "Me too."  

"Kiss the girls for me. Tell them I'll be home in a few days." He hears Jamia saying exactly that as he hangs up, and hearing the word "Daddy" still sends shivers down his spine. He looks up just as Gerard levers himself to his feet, beaming at Grant, and then turning towards Frank, goofy and grinning and _on_.

Life as a killjoy. It's kind of great.

the end


End file.
